


Dead Man Walking

by kickassanakin



Series: Those Who Stand At The Top [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Cotard Syndrome, Gen, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 06:52:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17823962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickassanakin/pseuds/kickassanakin
Summary: He crawled away from the wreckage of their home that night and continued to exist, but he wasn't alive.





	Dead Man Walking

**Author's Note:**

> *waves*
> 
> i don't know what to say here this time lol

Doflamingo was dead.

Oh, it wasn't a new thing - he'd died when he was a kid. Strung up in front of his house, eyes bleeding, heart burning… he'd died there, screaming at the world and swearing vengeance on those who killed him.

He hadn't survived. But he still got up after the crowd had had their fun. His body still moved, though by all means it shouldn't have.

He crawled away from the wreckage of their home that night and continued to exist, but he wasn't alive.

Perhaps it was his rage that kept his body moving. Or maybe it was, as Trebol told him, his destiny. He wasn't allowed to pass on until he’d owned the world. Burned it down. Killed it, like it had killed him. He was a vengeful spirit inhabiting a dead body to bring the end to everyone else.

He started dressing loudly, with bright colors and sharp contrasts. The way he dressed would distract people from the way his body had the pallor of a corpse. He cleaned himself obsessively, always careful to make sure he didn't smell like he was rotting. He wore opaque sunglasses, to make sure that nobody ever saw the way his eyes were glazed over. He could barely see out of one eye, and the other was gone anyways. He used his strings to see, for the most part.

He was seventeen when Rosi came back into his life. The last time they had seen each other, Rosi had clutched at Homing’s body, crying and screaming for the gods to bring daddy back.

Doflamingo has driven him off from their father’s body. Nobody had cried over him like that when _he_ had died. Homing didn't deserve that either. He knew Homing’s corpse wouldn't reanimate like his had - he wasn't worth it. He wasn't meant for greatness. He had been meant to die a sad, lonely death, to make up for killing his wife and son.

Doflamingo had cut off his head, just in case.

But Rosi was fifteen now, and something about him was different. He wasn't dead, but he had that look in his eyes. Like he wanted to kill the world, too.

Doflamingo was more than happy to take him back. Call it intuition, call it brotherly love, call it whatever you want - he was just happy to have someone by his side who understood.

But Rosi didn't know he was dead. At least, he pretended like he didn't know. By all means, he should have known - he had spent a few years with Doflamingo after he’d died, and it would have been obvious back then. But he never mentioned it.

Only a few people in Doflamingo’s crew knew of his condition: Pica, Vergo, Diamanté, and Trebol. They were the first ones who had truly accepted him. Who knew he was destined for great things. Who didn't care that he was dead. The rest of the Family so far hadn't been told - It wasn't necessary for them to know.

Rosi… okay, he wasn't a part of Doflamingo’s upper echelon. But he deserved to know.

When other people were in the room, Rosi didn’t speak. He only ever spoke when it was just the two of them. If he was putting that much trust in Doflamingo, how could he possibly keep his own mortality from his brother?

One night, he asked Rosi to come into his room for a special meeting. Rosi had wasted no time in knocking quietly on his door - he always did things so _silently_. As if he didn’t want to be seen, or heard, or known. Like he was a shadow.

When he entered Doflamingo’s room, he took a look at the two chairs set up in the middle of the room, a bottle of booze on the table between them, and sighed. He sat down in the chair opposite his brother. “What’s wrong?”

He knew how to get to the heart of things, didn’t he. Doffy reached out for the bottle. “There’s nothing _wrong_ , exactly.” Except for his entire existence.

Rosi gave him a look. “Sure.”

“Listen,” Doflamingo took a swig from the bottle, “I’m just - I don’t talk about this much. But I have to tell you. You’re my brother.” _You deserve to know_.

This gave Rosi pause. He was a teenager, and as most teens were, he was as sharp-tongued as the rest of them (when he did choose to speak, anyways). But even he could tell that Doflamingo was struggling with what he wanted to really say. “Okay, take your time. We’ve got all night.”

Doflamingo smiled. He wondered if he had brushed his teeth hard enough that day. Could Rosi smell the decay on his breath? “I’m dead.”

A moment passed. Then another. And then a third.

“I don’t get it.” Rosi tilted his head, a frown contrasted against his glasgow smile. “You look fine to me.”

“I make sure I look as alive as possible, but I promise you - I’m very dead.” Doflamingo took another swig, then set the bottle down on the table. “I’ve been dead for a very long time. Since we were kids.”

This time Rosi shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t know how it happened, either,” Doflamingo sat forward in his chair, eyes behind his sunglasses burning with emotion. “But I know I’m dead. I was _killed_ , Rosi, and I need to get revenge on the people who killed me. The people who hurt you. They don’t deserve to live.” Doflamingo curled one hand into a fist. He felt his nails dig into the flesh of his hand and held back a wince. “I won’t rest until I’ve watched this world burn.”

Sometimes, Doflamingo wished he could cry. But corpses don’t cry - the tears would just make his face rot even faster. Anyways, his tear ducts had been screwed up in the fire that killed him. He never cried right after that.

Rosi didn’t say anything for a long time. It looked as though he was trying to process everything Doflamingo had said to him. Then, after what felt like forever, Rosi spoke. “I want to help.”

For a moment, Doflamingo wondered if the joy he felt in that moment was what being alive felt like. He had been dead for so long that he didn’t remember what it felt like to have real blood rushing through his veins. But he imagined it felt something like this. He smiled, and for once it felt like something real. “I’m glad to have you on my side, Rosi.”

Rosi smiled back at him. “Dead or not, you’re my older brother. I won’t let you do this alone.”

Logically speaking, Doflamingo wasn’t alone. He had a crew, a name for himself, a bounty - he was well on his way to fame. But having Rosi by his side… that was special. For a single moment, he thought he felt his heart beat.

“You’re lucky,” Doflamingo grinned, “You’ve got a god on your side. I’m already dead - it’s not like I can be killed again.”

Rosi grinned back. “You know what? I think you’re right.”

Doflamingo was unkillable. He was unstoppable. He was never going to lose.

He’d destroy this world if it was the last thing he did.

**Author's Note:**

> cotard syndrome is fascinating to me and it just felt natural to write this doffy with it. this is just an initial delving into his mental state, but not all fics from his POV will be this detailed about it. 
> 
> UMM that's all!! hope you liked it aaa (and if there's something not quite right lmk - i always want to make my writing better)


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